


Skeletons in the Closet

by Tsuki_Amano



Series: 365 Stucky Shots [34]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Fluff, Halloween AU, M/M, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers is the worst ghost ever, and crack, is spoopy is a tag, it should be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-20
Updated: 2016-11-20
Packaged: 2018-08-23 13:26:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8329582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tsuki_Amano/pseuds/Tsuki_Amano
Summary: Steve's meant to be going in for his first day on the job. Which is exciting because this is what he's been training for as a ghost for a very long time. But not only is the human who's he meant to be scaring missing, there's a Reaper in his spot. This is all just turning into one big disaster. He knew he should have listened to his mother and taken up that job offer to be a tour guide in Transylvania.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have no excuse for this story. Initially because it was going to be Halloween I wanted to write actual scary stuff, but then I watched a scary movie, scared myself shitless and decided fluff and humour was the way to go.

It’s Steve’s first day on the job. He can do this, no matter what Tony says, _he’s scary_! He’s so terrifying that he’ll make you cry (not too hard because that’s just mean, and he’s a ghost with _principles_ ok?)

Steve winces when the door to his office room crashes into the wall again. Ms. Hill would be so pissed if they had to fix the wall again.

Luckily for him, the wall and the paint job seems to be in-tact. Letting out a sigh of relief, he turns to scowl at Tony who’s cheerfully ignoring him and setting down three massive pumpkins and what looks like an entire candy store.

“Rhodes’ is bringing the carving tools in a bit, he’s got a big gig in this hotel. Dirty politician I think he said, so he’s going full-ham. Blood dripping tools and everything!” Tony crows excitedly, biting into a Twix, before offering Steve the candy bar. Which Steve doesn’t accept, because seriously, germs. And while he loves Tony, he also knows the over-excitable vampire tends to feed more towards this time of year and he’s personally not fond of the taste of blood.

“Do you have any Skittles?” he asks curiously, rifling through one of the bags.

“Do I have any Skittles he asks,” Tony says dramatically, before yanking out a huge bag of, bless him, sour Skittles.

“You’re not completely incorrigible Tony!” Steve beams, before tearing the packet open, popping a few into his mouth, before turning back to his fake blood he’s been working on. Tony comes to stand behind him before leaning down and letting his head rest on Steve’s shoulder, allowing his fangs to scrape gently at the nape of his neck.

“While I applaud your dedication and artistic abilities, you are aware of the fact that you’re best friends with an actual vampire right? I could just get you a bag of blood, no sweat. And before you get all social justice on me, it’s animal blood, ethically sourced. I switched over last month. Surprise sport.”

Steve turns around and beams at Tony, before hugging his friend tightly, he’s aware of how much it must have taken for the man to make that sort of a commitment. Tony pats his back a few times before pausing, “Huh, you’re awfully corporeal today. Something I should be aware of?”

Drawing in a huge breath, more a force of habit than anything else, Steve puffs up his chest and holds up his appointment letter (no emails on this floor, the electromagnetic fields went berserk around all the spirits, it was a disaster waiting to happen).

“I got my first job!” Steve exclaims. “Isn’t it great? And this close to Halloween too!”

“That’s great champ, what’re you dealing with?”

“It’s this guy called Brock Rumlow, he’s a class A creep according to the briefing. Harassment charges, defacement of public property, assault and more. I just need to go to his dorm room and make him a bit nervous. It’s not really a big job or anything.” Steve’s shoulders hunch up and all at once Tony feels his mother hen tendencies rush to the forefront.

“Uh no, you were at the same seminar I was (Don’t try and fool me, you forced me to attend that monstrosity with you) and I remember them very clearly saying, **_No job is a small job_**. Everyone has to start somewhere, you know that. Anyway, let’s go over your plan of action for this Rumlow guy, sounds like someone who’d really raise your blood pressure, you know, if you had any.”

“My plan of action? Well, I mean, I thought I’d just scare him?”

“Steve. Stevie, Steven my beautiful, sometimes floating mass of ectoplasm who is far too precious for this afterlife. You can’t _just scare people_. You need finesse, you know some dripping goo from the walls, flickering lights, moving objects, the works. Alright Spooky, that fake blood is taking a back seat, first order of business is our Spook Schedule.”

“We are **not** calling it a Spook Schedule.”

Tony’s quirked eyebrow says it all.

Two hours later, the sun’s setting and Steve pulls his backpack on, squares his shoulders and marches out of the Institute.

Tony stands by the window and gnaws at his lip nervously.

“He’ll be fine, stop worrying at your lip, it’ll tear again.”

Turning to face Bruce who looks fondly exasperated at him, he lets himself slouch into the quieter man’s embrace. “It’s just, I don’t know if he’s really cut out for this kind of a job.”

“It’s what he wants to do, you can’t really stop him.”

“When that stupid irresponsible mummy got himself half unwound by those weird kids, he started crying Bruce. Actual legit tears. He worked himself up into such a state that he was transparent for the better half of a week.”

Bruce presses a kiss to Tony’s head, “He’s a good kid, he’ll learn. Now come away from the window, you’ve exceeded the amount of sunlight you can be safely exposed to for one day and I don’t want you to get a rash again. I’ll tell you what, since I know there’s no way you’ll sleep until you’re absolutely sure he’s ok, we’ll watch a movie ok? Jekyll and Hyde is on PrimeTime; you love that movie.”

He really doesn’t, but he knows Bruce does and he’s always in a good mood after that.

With one last parting glance at the window, Tony lets himself be drawn out of the office.

* * *

 

The dorm room is an absolute mess. Steve wrinkles his nose up as he gingerly steps over a pile of gym socks and avoids a plate that looks like it hasn’t been washed all semester. What kind of a human was this? Pushing away his disgust, he cracks his slender fingers and wiggles them. There’s no need to worry about a miniature plague of pests, because he can sense that there’s a family of cockroaches living in the walls.

Midway through his contemplation about whether or not ectoplasm dripping from the ceiling would be too tacky, his train of thought is cut-off as a form floats right through the adjacent wall.

Steve’s first reaction is to recognise how gorgeous the new occupant was. Brown hair with bangs artfully framing a jawline that looked as though it had been cut from marble. The man (he used that term loosely) was scowling at his clipboard and grumbling under his breath, before reaching up with a hand that gleamed silver under the reflection of the ceiling light and adjusting the hood of his black sweatshirt.

**_Wait a minute._ **

His initial excitement was replaced by anger because what was a Reaper doing here. Reapers were alright he supposed, they mostly stuck to their own business, but off-late a few rogue Reapers had been interfering in affairs they weren’t involved in.

As though he felt the force of the glare, the Reaper glanced up and stared at Steve, unnaturally blue eyes wide with shock.

“Uh… Can I help you?”

“You can help me by leaving.” Steve angrily declares. “I’m here on official orders of the Institute! Look I’ve got the papers here.”

He bristles under the bemused smile of the Reaper.

“You remind me of a disgruntled cat.” The Reaper says pleasantly. “Anyway, I’m not here to interfere with any of that. I’m non-union, most of us are around this month.”

He waves his hand at the bed and a pile of laundry marches itself off into a dusty looking hamper. Sitting down gently, he waves at the spot beside him, “Can I offer you a seat?”

“I’m ok standing.”

Shrugging, the Reaper flips through a few pages on his clipboard before humming in satisfaction.

“The name’s Bucky by the way. Nice to meet you.”

“I’m Steve,” he bites out. He’s trying not to tap his foot irritably but he can feel himself get more and more frustrated as the seconds tick by. This is his first job, he can’t afford to screw it up, they’ll never him live it down at the Institute.

Inwardly, Bucky’s smiling as he bends his head down. He’s met a fair few ghosts in his career but this one is by far the most adorable. Even if he does puff up like an angry cat. Clearing his throat, he asks, “I’m going to assume you’re not here to kill one Mr. Rumlow?” he asks bluntly and wow does this Steve look ridiculously cute when he’s all wide-eyed and affronted. He’s not entirely sure what the spectre is sputtering at him, but he can make out the words ‘morals’ and ‘job requirements’.

It’s sickeningly sweet really and he can feel cavities developing.

Steve collapses on the bed next to Bucky and Bucky uses the opportunity to sidle up to him. “See, here’s the thing. Rumlow’s not on any of our lists for a good long time, a couple of decades at the least. But for some reason, in the past two weeks, there have been no less than three attempts on his life.”

Blinking, Steve wrings his hands nervously, “But he’s still alive isn’t he?”

“Yeah, I’ll give him that, he’s got phenomenally good luck. That and the fact that Mother Nature isn’t too fond of Reapers going against the natural order of things. Plus, I mean these guys are as subtle as leprechauns on St. Patrick’s Day. Last week’s event involved him narrowly dodging a town bus in the middle of a football field. Bottom line is, someone wants him dead, and as much as I don’t like the guy, it goes against our work code to let it happen which is why I’m here. What’s your story?”

“It’s my first Spook-Off.” Steve says quietly.

Letting a stream of air rush through his teeth, Bucky looks up, “Boy your luck’s a bit screwed pal. Can’t spook a guy who’s six feet under can you?”

Steve just groans and drops his head into his hands. Maybe he should have listened to his mother and gone into the tourism industry. It’s hard to concentrate because Bucky’s hand is now on his back, rubbing slow circles and his voice is in his ear, soft and soothing. He’s reassuring Steve that things will be alright.

Of course, given that it’s this close to Halloween, Steve should have known something would go wrong and the moment Bucky’s finished his speech, a piercing scream drifts down the hallways.

Bucky’s hand stills and he glances at Steve before fixing his eyes on the door.

“Either we have an unscheduled banshee on our hands, or something’s wrong.”

Steve knew he should have taken up that offer, Transylvania was always beautiful this time of year and even _their_ tourism board was less headache-inducing than this.

* * *

 

 The idea of a vampire Tony is both terrifying and brilliant at the same time, although I'm pretty sure this one doesn't sparkle in the sunlight.

Come say hi! I'm on [tumblr](everydayindian.tumblr.com)!


	2. Chapter 2

The problem with the living, Bucky thought, was that they tended to be very, very annoying. And shrill.

He actually physically winced when he reaches the quadrangle and finds that, instead of a banshee responsible for the noise, there’s a handful of students, one of whom seems to responsible for the scream. He makes a mental note to tell the Banshee recruitment agency that he might have found a potential candidate for them and groans when he sees none other than Brock Rumlow at the epicentre of the chaos.

The young man is seated on the ground, looking shaken and pale next to a …

“Bucky,” Steve whispers, “Is that a cow?”

It is in fact a cow. Secretly, Bucky thinks someone at HQ is shitting with him because they’re in the middle of the city and there’s no plausible way that there can be a cow in the middle of this campus. Striding up to one of the young women who’s in the crowd, he plasters on his best smile and asks in what he hopes is a winning manner, “What’s going on?”

“You’re not even going to believe me if I tell you,” she says, her eyes wide.

“Try me,” he replies drily, “You’d be surprised at what I’d believe.”

And that’s how he learns that a cow apparently decided to charge down the football field, seemingly from nowhere and came after Brock who was on his way back to his dorm room after classes. Bucky clicks his tongue irritated, because this was turning out to be messier than he had anticipated and he had plans. Granted they weren’t anything exciting and involved lounging around watching that soap opera on GhoulTime, but what he did in his spare time was no one else’s business. Besides, he really wanted to find out if the Mummy ever got together with that Pharaoh’s servant girl.

Shaking his head, he snaps his fingers and the crowd disperses, their eyes hazy. Only Brock still remains on the ground, seemingly in shock. Well, him and the cow.

“I don’t suppose you’d know what to do with a cow?” he asks Steve.

“Do I look like I’d know what you’re meant to do with a cow?” he says incredulously, but steps forward anyway and tentatively begins to pet her. Bucky stares at him as he starts cooing to the cow and tickling his chin and decides to leave him to it. He turns to Brock and asks him, with all the false sympathy that he can muster up, “So, uh are you all right?”

“Man, I nearly got steamrolled by a fucking cow. Do you think I’m ok?”

“I think you’re not going to win any prizes for congeniality,” he snaps and then takes another deep breath out of habit to calm himself down.

“What happened anyway?”

“I was walking back from class and this thing just decided to come after me. I don’t know what the heck is going on off late but if I had things my way, I’d make that demon into a burger.”

“If you touch Bessie, I’ll skin you for a carpet,” Steve says sweetly and wow, alright this was going really, really badly.

“No one is going to inflict bodily harm on anyone or anything else.” Bucky says firmly, although he silently agrees with Steve that Brock is a bit of a jerk. But he’s a reaper, divine retribution is not a part of his pay grade and with good reason.

Deciding to go for a more direct approach he asks, “You’ve been having a few of these accidents, haven’t you?”

“How’d you know that?” Brock asks, suspiciously squinting at him.

“Call me interested in student safety.” He says shrugging.

And Brock explains all the strange things that’ve been happening to him over the past few days, from the bus in the football field, to the time he woke up in a telephone booth, to the time when he swore a giant moth was out to get him.

Taking Steve to the side, he asks quietly, “What do you think?” Because honestly, he’s more than a little confused.

The ghost chews his lip again and Bucky forces himself to concentrate on what he’s saying as opposed to his plump lip. “It sort of sounds like someone has a really weird sense of humour,” Steve says contemplatively.

And wait a minute.

_Humour._

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

He turns around at a strangled gasp and observes that Brock’s staring at Steve, now completely pale in the face and shaking. “He’s…. he’s… you can see through him.”

And oops, as a matter of fact you could. It wasn’t exactly Steve’s fault because for a ghost to maintain a corporeal body for that long, it took more than a bit of practice. Steve tries to remedy the situation but Bucky can see the strain that it’s putting on his ectoplasm.

“Yes,” he says blithely, “He tends to do that.” And he leans forward and touches his hand to Brock’s forehead, knocking him out.

“He’s just gone to sleep,” Bucky explains when he sees the horror on Steve’s face. “When he wakes up tomorrow, he’ll think everything was just a bad dream.”

“But we still don’t know what’s behind all this,” Steve protests.

“Oh, I think I have a pretty good idea. Isn’t that right Loki?”

And there’s a flash of lightning and some green smoke before a pale man steps out of a glowing portal, gleaming gold horns on his head and sceptre in his hand. Loki always liked his theatrical approaches.

“Barnes,” Loki addresses him, his voice silky, “You called?”

“Is there a reason you’re terrorising college students now?” he asks, “I thought you were due to be dealing with the aftermath of the elections, high-grade stuff.”

Loki doesn’t even try and deny the allegations. Bucky had a feeling he wouldn’t, they know each other too well for that. “Call it a personal agenda.” Loki hisses, his eyes flashing.

“I’m going to need something more than that.” Bucky says, “I need to fill out a report.”

“Paperwork,” Loki says, waving his hand lazily, “How mundane.”

“Um, excuse me.” Comes a weak voice and damn, Bucky had forgotten all about Steve for a minute. He turns around to find the spectre with one hand raised, “What exactly is going on?”

“Uh, Loki, meet Steve. Steve, meet Loki.”

“Like the Trickster God?”

“My reputation precedes me I’m afraid. And you are?”

“I’m a ghost. Brock’s supposed to be my first Spook-off but that’s not really going to happen.” And he just sort of wilts and goes all floaty and transparent and Bucky can see the way Loki relents. The god may be a force to be reckoned with if you pissed him off, but deep down (deep, deep, _deep_ down) he had a good heart.

“The swine affronted Thor,” he grumbled. “That bumbling oaf’s decided he wanted to court a human girl, and so he’s attending classes. I believe, in his inattention and naivety, he caused an explosion of some kind in a laboratory and this unworthy mortal felt it would be alright to poke fun at his actions. I merely sought to remedy his misguided ideas.”

“Loki, we’ve been through this. Permanent maiming still isn’t ok.”

“He’s not permanently maimed.” And great, now he’s got a Norse god who’s on the verge of sulking.

“I’ll strike a bargain with you,” Loki says, “If you leave my name out of this, I’ll help your ghost friend with his assignment. I’d say that was a fair bargain.”

And Bucky shouldn’t have looked at Steve because it can’t be possible to say no to those eyes.

Later that night, the doorbell to Steve’s house rings and when he opens it, he finds Tony with more bags of candy and a carved pumpkin. “I heard the Spook-off was a success,” he says, walking in without preamble. “Bruce and Rhodes are stopping by too and I think Pepper might even stop by if she’s free but I wouldn’t bank on it. We’ve got Monopoly and Rhodes is bringing the cards. I say a celebration is in order!”

“Um.”

Tony’s still not noticed Bucky who’s frozen on the sofa. The pair of them are watching a terrible soap opera and Steve had messaged Tony ages ago telling him about the pranks he’d pulled. Brock Rumlow wouldn’t be picking on anyone, anytime soon. Of course, he’d failed to mention Loki in all his texts.

Placing the bags on the counter, Tony turns around, arms spread and freezes when he catches sight of Bucky. “Steve,” he hisses, “I don’t mean to alarm you but you’ve got a Reaper on your sofa.”

“Um.”

“Hi? I’m Bucky.”

Tony turns to Steve. “ _One night_ , one night I leave you unsupervised and this is what happens. Bruce is going to be sleeping on the couch for the next century.”

“It’s not that bad.” Steve whines, but Tony’s past the point of listening.

“Do you want a Twizzler?” Bucky asks politely.

Tony grabs a handful of Twizzlers and stuffs them into his mouth, before side-eyeing Bucky and plopping onto the sofa between them. He looks at the TV and frowns, “You never watch this show,” nodding at Steve.

“Bucky wanted to watch it.”

“Huh,” he says consideringly. “Have they said if the Mummy’s going to keep courting that servant girl?”

And that’s as close to acceptance as they’re going to get, thinks Steve, settling down with a bag of Skittles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sort of went back and made a list (a long list) of all the arcs that are still incomplete and I'll be working over the next month to try and complete them. But this may be the last regular update till the 4th or 5th of December because I'm travelling (hopefully) for a bit.
> 
> Also, I'm not sure how regular updates will be after that as I'll be potentially looking for research positions and/or PhD posts and/or jobs (I feel old) but if anyone has any requests for the Christmas period let me know!

**Author's Note:**

> Uh...Boo?


End file.
